In Dan O'Bannon and Ronald Shusett's initial draft of 1979's Alien, there was no character of Ash. There was no Ripley, either, for that matter; in a deliberate choice, O'Bannon had decided to make every character gender neutral in order to expand casting possibilities as well as add a futurist angle, and focus on the titular creature that much more. As such, there was no character who was revealed later to have been an android all along. However, when producers Walter Hill and David Giler rewrote the screenplay, they changed nearly everything but the premise and the creature, and added the synthetic Ash. Dan O'Bannon was incensed, and thought the change to be "an inferior idea from inferior minds", as he put it on a 2003 audio commentary for the film. In O'Bannon's eyes, the character was a dull throwback to "the Russian sleeper agent" plot line of many a war drama. However, he praised Ian Holm's performance as well as Ridley Scott's handling of the material, calling it "well acted and well directed".

38 years later, one wonders what O'Bannon's opinion of Alien: Covenant would be, as his concept for a creature that incubates inside a human only to burst from their chest is not only back on the big screen, but shares it with several of those synthetics he disliked so much. For what began as a end-of-the-second-act plot twist in the original film, has now blossomed into a thematic cornerstone for the entire franchise. Each film in the Alien series has featured an android as a major part of the plot, but in Covenant, director Ridley Scott's second prequel to Alien after his Prometheus, the fate of synthetics and Xenomorphs are inexorably tied together. It's that aspect, along with the sprawling nature of this horror film, that allows Covenant to be yet another entry in the long running series that feels simultaneously of a piece and yet completely unique. It's difficult to come up with another example of a big summer blockbuster that's this bizarre, bleak, and ballsy (you may have to go all the way back to David Fincher's poison pill Alien 3 for that). Alien: Covenant is possibly even more divisive than Prometheus for these reasons, and is definitely not for everyone, but that's what makes it so admirable and enjoyable.

Following Prometheus both narratively and structurally, gone is the claustrophobia of the initial Alien films, replaced with something stranger and more sprawling. 10 years after the mysterious disappearance of the ship Prometheus, the vessel Covenant is on a mission to a distant planetoid in order to colonize it, with thousands of colonists and embryos on board. A freak neutron storm hits the ship and wakes the crew, far ahead of schedule. In the midst of repairs, they pick up a strange signal that is not only a human voice, but a song, and trace its point of origin to a nearby planet with an atmosphere "too good to be true", as a character puts it. Feeling obligated to explore it as a secondary colonization option, they land on the planet, where things go quite badly, and end up running into the lone survivor of the Prometheus: the synthetic David (Michael Fassbender).

"Ah jeez, Fassbender caught his reflection in the mirror again. There goes another two hours."

Make no mistake, this is Fassbender's film, and then some. The actor has never been more dynamic than he is here, likely because he's playing two very different characters: the marooned David, and the loyal Walter, who is the Covenant's assigned synthetic. Far from being an Eddie Murphy/Mike Myers-esque ego trip, Fassbender sharing the screen with himself is part and parcel of the film's themes, leaning into the idea of the creation of identical beings who are anything but. It's a performance both showy and remarkably grounded, and the biggest high water mark for "acting with one's self" since Armie Hammer in The Social Network. It helps that David is this Alien prequel series' most remarkable character, a mercurial being who is both sympathetic and utterly monstrous. His is the type of villainy that is both repulsive and incredibly attractive. The term "love to hate" applies greatly here.

The rest of the cast is no slouch, though aside from the leads, Scott and writers John Logan & Dante Harper let the film down in the character department. Katherine Waterston's Daniels, Danny McBride's Tennessee, and Billy Crudup's Oram are undeniably the heart of the movie, bringing their own brand of determination and heroism to the series that's distinctive from any other characters in the franchise. Daniels isn't Sigourney Weaver's Ripley, nor is she intended to be. Instead, she's an incredibly physically capable woman struggling to rationalize a hostile universe. McBride's Tennessee is another feather in the cap of the increasingly dynamic career of the actor, a well rounded character who is neither the comic relief nor overcompensating macho pilot, but somewhere in between. Crudup’s Oram is the most intriguing secondary character in the series since Charles S Dutton’s Dillon in Alien3, a neurotic man thrust into a leadership position who feels put upon due to his faith yet always strives to do the right thing. Unfortunately, while the rest of the cast is made up of fantastic actors who all do a fine job, their characters are essentially prey for the many creatures of the film, notable only for their gruesome demises.

But oh, those creatures. Alien: Covenant continues the thread from Prometheus, dealing with a mysterious substance that creates a bevy of bizarre beasts, as well as adds the classic H.R. Giger creation back into the mix. The film's newest creature, dubbed the Neomorph, is what you might get if you combined an Alien and a velociraptor. The Alien itself (as well as its attendant facehuggers and chestbursters) hasn't been this intelligent, this vicious, since 1997's Alien Resurrection, and it's a sight to behold for any fan of the creature. As is par for the course these days, the bulk of the creature effects are done through CGI, and yet the technique is used in the most intelligent ways. None of the creatures are made to do anything just for the sake of looking "impressive" or "cool", and the effects serve their character and purpose in the story. In short, despite your eye realizing the faux-ness of CGI, you never register these things as anything less than a threat.

By the end of the film, 90% of these people will be dead. Have a great summer!

The bulk of the credit for the film, of course, must go to director Scott, who is positively on fire here. At 79 (!!) he showcases the ambition of a younger filmmaker combined with the experience of an old pro. To wit, Covenant blends elements of nearly his entire filmography to date: not just the bleak Lovecraftian horror of Alien and the mythological trappings of Prometheus, but the seductive sociopathy of Hannibal, the existentialism of Blade Runner, the mean-spiritedness of The Counselor, the science-forwardness of The Martian, the action of Black Hawk Down, and the historical epic scope of Kingdom of Heaven/Exodus: Gods and Kings all make an appearance. Even films not made by him are an influence, as there are notes of King Kong, Jurassic Park, and The Island ofDr Moreau all present. If all of that sounds a bit unwieldy, well, it is. Just because Scott is a filmmaker with things to say doesn't mean he's concise, and as such the film feels herky-jerky in spots, too slow at one moment and speeding out of control the next. It's never boring, however, as around every corner is something literally and figuratively new. This isn't safe, four quadrant, franchise filmmaking. The movie leaves ample room for a sequel, and yet doesn't unfold with the knowledge that a sequel will undoubtedly exist. In these "cinematic universe" days, this may be the last bastion of old school franchise filmmaking, pushing the narrative as far as it can go without worrying about future installments.

How you feel about Alien: Covenant will depend a lot on what type of fan of the series you are. James Cameron's Aliens was a major influence across the board, not just in film but in novels, toys, comics, television, and video games. It's still unequivocally the best sequel to Alien, and for that reason convinced a generation of fans that its tone is the direction the series should go. Every sequel since has thus been seen as a disappointment, with the installments that deviated further from Cameron's adrenaline-infused rollercoaster ride being criticized the most. If this is where you stand, then Covenant will likely frustrate you (despite its standout action sequence set on a cargo lift). If, however, you prefer the bleak nihilism of Alien (or Alien 3, moreso), then there is a chance that you, like myself, will consider Alien: Covenant to be one of the best films in the series. Whichever side you end up on, there's the undeniable fact that, despite its flaws, a movie this bizarre and chock full of ideas is something to celebrate. Like Dan O'Bannon and Ash, like David and the Xenomorph, you may be able to find the beauty in the grotesque.

2012's not-quite-Alien prequel Prometheus is one of the internet's favorite punching bags, one of those films that people seemingly love to deride. While it's true that no amount of passionate defense of a work of art will stop someone from disliking it, in my experience it is very possible to hear a dissenting opinion and reconsider one's own (with Rob Zombie's Halloween II and The Matrix Revolutions being two major examples of doing a 180 for me). In the spirit of that, and in light of the premiere of Alien:Covenant today, the time was right to revisit the film, and celebrate all that it does well. In general, the film's production design, photography and effects are well praised, with its script and characters being the main points of criticism. Yet after a rewatch the other night, I found that it thematically works even better years later then it did upon release, fitting into the Alien saga perfectly without disrupting it, all while being an original science fiction film of its own.

Each installment of the Alien franchise represents a different kind of terror: Ridley Scott's original is an "old dark house" survival slasher, James Cameron's adrenaline laced sequel is a roller coaster ride, David Fincher's (unfairly maligned) third entry is nihilistic and melancholy, and Jean-Pierre Jeunet's fourth installment is a carnival freakshow. (For posterity, the two Alien Vs Predator films represent the "monster mash" aspect of horror that their titles suggest, albeit poorly). Prometheus, on first watch, is an odd sort of fit with this pattern. There seems to be an incongruity within it, as it doesn't have as single minded a structure as Scott's original movie, instead bouncing from scene to scene. The med-pod Caesarian sequence (uncontestedly the best scene in the film) is followed immediately by the reveal of an elderly Peter Weyland (played by a young Guy Pearce, another odd incongruity) and a discussion about meeting a real live "Engineer", an alien species who created humanity. It's a huge tonal shift, and one that can be pointed at as a flaw, if the focus of the film was on what many expected it to be, the creatures (and by extension, the Xenomorph). But despite the impressive creature design and work in the film, Prometheus isn't a monster movie; it's an existentialist horror.

The creatures in Prometheus aren't the main attraction, but a byproduct of the true horror, the horror of creation, parenthood, and abandonment in a hostile universe. Each major character in the film is both an abandoned child and a reluctantparent, responsible for another who is disappointing or undesirable in some fashion. To wit, Vickers is both the unloved daughter of Weyland and responsible for Janek (along with the ship and its crew); David is the "son" of Weyland (and, implicitly, humankind), as well as the "father" of the resultant creature born to parents Holloway and Shaw, and is treated as less than human. Even Captain Janek can be seen as the father figure of the crew, with some of its members the disappointing children. After all, how else to describe the behavior of for-hire scientists Milburn and Fifield in the Engineer store room? They smoke pot, goof around, and play with dangerous animals like spoiled, ignorant children. "Spoiled children" is exactly how the film's ultimate father figure, the Engineer, sees its progeny, humanity. During the initial confrontation with the Engineer, Shaw howls in despair at it, "why do you hate us?", but no concrete answer is given. All Shaw knows is that the Engineers, before a breakout of their mercurial black goo bio weapon wiped them out, were planning on bringing loads of the stuff back to Earth in order to eradicate humanity. Perhaps "hate" is too strong a word. As Holloway says to the android David seconds before David spikes his drink with the goo, humanity built artificial life "because we could". The tentacled creature that attacks the Engineer (in order to create its offspring, the Deacon) does not attack out of hate. Creation, then, according to Prometheus, is a power wielded blithely and dispassionately, and the destruction of the resultant life is handled similarly. All of which leaves spurned, angry children in its wake. As David responds to Holloway's remark, "can you imagine how disappointing it would be for you to hear the same thing from your creator?"

That's unquestionably bleak subject matter for a big budget sci fi blockbuster, and while it makes the film so admirably ballsy, it doesn't have completely unsympathetic characters. Much has been made of Michael Fassbender's performance as David, and that's no mistake. Fassbender is a revelation in the role, his sociopathic ticks constantly reminding us he's not human. Crucially, the film never goes out of its way to blame David for his actions. He never explicitly lets another human come to harm, and even receives implicit permission to poison Holloway's drink. Many see him as the protagonist of the film, but he shares those duties with the unsung other protagonist, Shaw. Not enough has been said about Noomi Rapace's performance, which is fierce, determined, and empathetic where David is subdued. Watching her arc, going from a wide eyed idealist searching for meaning to a broken woman, is harrowing. It's as if Close Encounters' Roy Neary walked into the mothership at the end of that film and promptly got zapped with a laser through the chest. Fassbender's David is the cold, logical intelligence of the film, and Rapace's Shaw is its heart, howling in vain at the universe's indifference.

It's that coldness that makes the film the perfect Alien prequel, while simultaneously not being one at all. Prometheus doesn't do any of the expected "prequel-y" things: there's no character who is meant to be a franchise character's ancestor, the ending doesn't slide right into the beginning of Alien, and in fact, the Xenomorph doesn't make an appearance (the Deacon, though clearly a genetic ancestor, is also not quite our Xeno). It's this last point that must have made the film a disappointing experience for many, despite their protests to the contrary. Yet while the Alien is certainly missed, the world of the film so neatly fits into the franchise. In a way, Prometheus is the most successful prequel ever made, for it expertly establishes a world in which Alien can take place, rather than go through the "what happened first" motions. Moreover, it allows the movie to stand on its own, in keeping with the franchise's tradition of allowing auteur directors to give each installment its own mood and flavor. The Ridley Scott who made Prometheus is not the same Ridley Scott who made Alien, literally and figuratively; indeed, given the film's existentialist themes, it's a closer sibling to his Blade Runner. Perhaps Scott & company gave the film a self-fulfilling prophecy by titling it Prometheus, for as explained by Peter Weyland, that mythological Titan also became an outcast despite the gifts he brought humanity. Ultimately, though, Prometheus is to the Alien franchise what its major characters are: both the “beginning” of the series and its bastard child, not to be underestimated and worth a second look.

We live in an age of progress. Each year, a new app, device, or vehicle is released that affects our daily lives and in some cases changes our culture forever. New discoveries about the world we live and how we can improve it (or save it) are made every day, and the competitive nature of capitalism mixed with altruism ensures that the drive to continue to push forward with progress is perpetual. Yet, as many pessimistic pundits perceive, our culture has very much turned insular, concerned with our selves and how we can improve our quality of life. The pioneering spirit of humanity has dwindled, and only recently has the flame for exploration and discovery been rekindled. The popularity of NASA and scientist celebrities like Neil Degrasse Tyson and Bill Nye have steadily increased, but leading the goodwill campaign for space exploration is good old film and television.

In much the same way that the original Star Trek series inspired real life NASA engineers, shows like Cosmos and movies likeInterstellar strive to make space a destination again. On the face of it, an outer space disaster movie would seem to be the antithesis of stoking a desire for space exploration (in the way that 2013’s Gravity wrung as much fear out of the potential hazards as possible), but that is exactly what has happened. The Martian presents the experience of what it’d be like to be stranded on a desolate planet and surviving until you can find a way back home using your skills and strength of will alone, and is so exhilarating, you’ll want to sign up to be an astronaut as soon as it ends.

Based on a book by Andy Weir (himself a former computer programmer with scientist/engineer parents; The Martian is his debut novel), screenwriter Drew Goddard and director Ridley Scott infuse the story of astronaut Mark Watney’s (Matt Damon) accidental stranding on Mars with a large amount of humor, while never undercutting or skimping on the drama. The film has a spirit of determination that allows for grit and sorrow but never despair. Although the scenes of Mark learning how to farm and move around on Mars are akin to an interplanetary Cast Away, the threat of crushing loneliness and fear is never allowed to take over. Mark meets each new challenge almost as a dare, and when he does have a setback he picks himself up right away.

One neat trick that most audiences going blind into the film may not expect is that The Martian is actually three films in one. If Damon is starring in a Martian Cast Away, then the astronaut crew that left him behind are starring in a blend of The Right Stuff and 2001. Their return journey to Earth (and subsequent rescue mission back to Mars) takes place on board the Hermes, a craft that is one of the biggest triumphs in production design this year. Much has been made of director Scott’s uneven track record, as he is a director whose good films are directly proportional to the quality of his scripts (and The Martian is a cracking script, in case that wasn’t clear). But his talent as a visual stylist can’t be overstated, and the scenes on the Hermes (as well as the opening Martian storm sequence) are breathtaking, using the medium of native stereo 3D to create an astounding and gorgeous landscape. The film is set in a near future that presents technologies and devices that clearly don’t exist yet, but feel so incredibly real and matter of fact in the moment that I had a hard time telling what was science fiction.

Grounding the film even further in a tangible reality is the third “film-within-a-film” set in and around NASA, a mash-up of The West Wing and Apollo 13. Allowing powerhouse actors such as Chiwetel Ejiofor and Jeff Daniels to trade quips and theories with people like SNL‘s Kristen Wiig and Community‘s Donald Glover lends a light touch to the drama on Earth, giving the mission control scenes less of a dire tone and more a sense of the urgency and fun of solving a problem. It is here that many of the political and moral obstacles to rescuing Mark are put in place, and remarkably these are presented fairly rather than by any mustache twirling villainous suited characters. After all, this film came not to bury humanity, but to praise it.

It isn’t until well into the movie that you realize how inspiring it is, despite the harrowing journey. Throughout, outer space exploration isn’t presented as a foreboding activity that humans should shy away from but rather a new frontier that we can not only survive in but master. How ironic that Ridley Scott, who gained fame with Alien, a film that presented space as filled with inhuman horrors, bookends his career with a film that culminates with a scene of Times Square filled up like New Year’s Eve, the crowd awaiting news of the latest NASA mission. At the end of The Martian, you’ll not only have bitten your nails in between laughs, you’ll want to fly into orbit yourself.

This article originally appeared on Pixcelation.com on Oct. 3rd, 2015.